


Old Soldiers

by AJHall



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Loss, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJHall/pseuds/AJHall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He's five foot four and he's six foot two/He fights with missiles and with spears</i>
</p><p>Spoilers for "To the Last Man"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Soldiers

"Never had an officer buy me a drink before." The boy's voice was loaded with an unspoken question.

_Are you after something?_

Jack shook his head. In other circumstances things might have been different: the boy's skin had a clarity that bespoke youth, clean living and plentiful use of Imperial Leather soap. His sleek dark hair invited caresses. But this was Wales, 1968, and last year's Sexual Offences Act had been explicit:

"Notwithstanding any statutory or common law provision a homosexual act in private shall not be an offence provided that the parties consent thereto and have attained the age of 21 years."

And Pte Tommy Brockless would never attain the age of 21. On his own timeline he would be shot for cowardice in 1918, still eight months short of being a legal adult. By which time he would have been fighting for his country for two and a half years.

Anyway, whatever Jack had lost on the Gamestation he'd held onto his pride. He'd be buggered seven ways to Sunday before he would allow himself to be written off as just another predatory, incompetent officer. Especially not by one of his own men.

"Just figured you deserved a celebration. This being the big Five-Oh. Fifty years since you arrived in Torchwood Three."

Tommy's full, generous mouth twisted up in a smile as a girl moved past, making her way to the juke-box.

"Eh, there're some things worth waiting half a century for. 'Specially since if I'd come here by the slow way I'd be too old to get full benefit. So they're still wearing mini-skirts? I wondered, when you were waking me up, whether fashion would've passed by now. Or if all the lasses would have been arrested for breach of the peace."

He cocked an eye up to the clock above the bar. "Doesn't seem likely I'll be called to active duty tonight, does it?"

Jack, veteran of too many wars, recognised the note in the boy's voice.

_Just allow me one more more cigarette – one more beer. One more dawn. Please let it not be tonight._

"Yes; seems we'll be standing you down for another year. No point in rushing it."

Tommy nodded. "When I first joined, corporal told me; 'Son, remember one thing. There's old soldiers and there's bold soldiers. But there en't no old bold soldiers." The boy must have caught Jack’s quick grimace. "You too? How old were it when you joined?"

"Sixteen. An eternity and a half ago."

Brockless nodded. “Aye. Reckon I know the feeling.”

The girl was coming back from the juke-box. Behind her there was a faint 'click' as the record she had selected dropped onto the turntable:

_He's five foot-two, and he's six feet-four,  
He fights with missiles and with spears.  
He's all of thirty-one, and he's only seventeen,  
Been a soldier for a thousand years._

Jack and Tommy Brockless looked into each other’s eyes, raised their glasses, and drank.


End file.
